Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 3A REPOST
Title: Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 3A REPOST
Author: Insertcode11 with jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), abuse, weecest (Sam is 16) in parts
Word Count: ~ 24,250
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
They're in Mississippi when Castiel asks for their help on the new case and from Mississippi to Delaware is a good seventeen-hour drive. Castiel came to them a day after the latest death and after some research Sam and Dean determine that each death occurs at least a week and a half to two weeks apart.
They decide not to push themselves to get to Delaware, not wanting to show up as the new sheriff and potential school guidance counselor looking like unshaven and unhygienic redneck rejects. Not to mention broke redneck rejects since the gas expenses alone would be close to three hundred dollars and they currently only have one-fifty in cash between them.
After some debate between loading the car and calling Dad and Ash, they reluctantly agree that it shouldn't be too harmful to the case if they break up the trip over two and a half days. Being somewhat rested before approaching the case would be ideal, not to mention it gives them two nights of hustling to get extra cash in their pockets for traveling expenses and whatever residency they'll have in Pike Creek.
Castiel generously offers to take them to Pike Creek via Angel Express which Dean adamantly (and kind of rudely, although it doesn't seem to bother the angel) turns down, claiming irreparable damage to vital bodily functions. Sam the peacemaker steps in when Castiel gets that pinched look on his face that either means he's offended or contemplating the cosmic mechanisms of the universe (neither Sam nor Dean have ever been totally able to read the angel's body language), and reasons that the two and a half extra days will give them time to put together a game plan for the case and also time for Ash to set up their fake identities and make sure all remnants of Dean's record (where they blamed him for the shit that went down in St. Louis and Baltimore) were erased from cyber existence.
For an hour into the drive, Sam resolutely stays silent. He knows that Dean notices-of course Dean notices-but Sam's relieved when it becomes apparent that Dean has chosen not to say anything. Because while Dean seems concerned over Sam's silence, he doesn't know any other way to ask “what's wrong?” than “what's got your bitch panties in a twist this time, emo-boy?”. And while Sam has long come to accept Dean's tendency to be socially inept, he doesn't think he can take a question like that right now. Not without screaming and stabbing his big brother in the thigh with like a knife or something.
So Sam's glad when Dean translates his worry by turning his antagonistic inclinations to Castiel, launching into a discussion (that sounded a bit like a one-sided argument on Dean's part) about the pros and cons of the Angel Express and riding in the Impala. Castiel's in the back seat, wearing his usual tense “I hate cars and this back seat and this is ridiculous” look.
“It would just be so much simpler if I flew you to Pike Creek. This... thing is confining. Like a prison.”
“You did not just call my baby a thing. She's gotten us out of more tight spots than anything else-right, Sam?”
Sam doesn't answer, throat so tight it pulls at his temples. He's afraid that if he tries to make a sound it will end up like a scream.
“You're a pretty boy, aren't you?”
So Sam shudders and doesn't say anything, just keeps staring out of his window at where the gray road blurs into the grass on the shoulder. He's blinded by the sun blinking like a strobe light through the dense stretch of trees that they zoom by but he keeps on staring out anyway, tense and frozen. Dean's probably glancing at him, perhaps Castiel too, but once again Dean seems to decide to drop the subject before even bringing it up because he goes on to Castiel.
“Besides, we can listen to music while we drive. Don't have those kinds of luxuries on the Angel Express,” he says haughtily.
“That's because it's so efficient you don't have time to listen to music...” the angel mutters from the back.
“What was that?” Dean challenges but when the angel remains silent, probably glaring at Dean via the rearview mirror, Dean just huffs triumphantly. “That's what I thought.”
Pike Creek, Sam thinks. He never thought that he'd have to return there. Fuck, Sam doesn't want to do this hunt-he doesn't want to be within a three state radius of Pike Creek.
“Such a tease, pretty boy. Gonna show you what a tease deserves.”
Sam feels nauseous. His stomach roils and his head pounds. He tries to swallow thickly past it but the bitter hard edges of panic hang and snag in his tender throat. He wipes his hands self-consciously on his jeans, suddenly clammy with sweat. Oh God, they're going back to Pike Creek and Dean doesn't even know anything about what had happened before, the first time-he hadn't believed Sam when he had tried to tell his big brother back then. Then the outrage comes, so swift it startles him, makes chills rise on his skin. They're going to Pike Creek where that bastard took everything away from him-almost everything, anyway, and if they get there and Dean finds out about what really happened...
Sam might lose Dean, too. And he can't-he can't do that, can't live through that. Dean is everything. Even after what happened, Dean's still everything and... he's all that Sam has left. He blinks, knows everything's spinning out of control in his head, so he takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, not feeling much better but starting to gather his thoughts.
“Don't look at me that way, pretty boy. Hold still.”
They're going back to Pike Creek, people are dying and even Castiel can't quite figure out what's going on so they have to go. And... And Sam isn't sixteen anymore. He's twenty-four and a skilled hunter and won't be overpowered by that bastard anymore. Besides, Nathan Schneider (he swallows back a rush of bile as the name rises unbidden in his mind) might not even be in Pike Creek anymore-or he may have retired as a gym coach and isn't even at the school anymore. The bastard could be dead, or he might not even be interested in Sam now. He might not even remember Sam.
He might have... moved on. Sam grimaces at that painful thought, trying not to think about Nathan and another kid... because then that would be Sam's fault, wouldn't it?
Oh, God. He’d never even thought of that possibility. The guilt nearly overwhelms him, sinking heavy, hooking so deep within that he feels the weight of it pull at his skin.
“You're a pretty boy. Aren't you? You'll never be free of me. I'll never let you go.”
So what if Nathan is still at Pike Creek-at the high school? Sam has to keep his head and not let Dean suspect anything-Sam couldn't bear to see the shame and disgust in Dean's eyes if his big brother found out. Despair and panic creep up his skin and insides like ants marching. Dean finding out can't happen-Sam won't let it. Besides, even if Nathan's still around, even if worst-case scenario, he does approach Sam again, the fact is that there aren't too many humans that can single-handedly take Sam down anymore.
It came down to the case and the kids that are dying so fast Sam doesn't have the time to worry over the past. He has to solve the case, keep Dean from finding out, and then get them both the hell away from Pike Creek. Sam can compartmentalize and repress as good as any Winchester, so that’s what he does. Besides, he has two days before they even get there and Dean is right here, beautiful and strong and within Sam's reach so Sam's not going to waste this (because if Dean finds out, these might be his last days with his brother like this).
“This is a slow form of transportation,” Castiel’s gruff voice breaks through Sam’s thoughts.
“My baby is not slow,” Dean grouses, eyes cutting to the passenger's seat more frequently.
“This restricted form is not a baby. Nor is it Sam, whom you also call baby. You are rather confusing.”
Dean's hand reaches out and lands on Sam's thigh and if Sam hadn't been half-expecting the gesture then he would have flinched. His eyes meet Dean's only to find his brother leering at him.
“'Cause he's my baby boy,” Dean drawls, winking exaggeratedly at Sam, something warm dancing in his eyes. And just like that something lifts from Sam's mind-doesn't go away but shrinks and fades a little. He chuckles nervously at Dean's intense attention on him.
“Well, ‘baby’ is a pet name,” Dean goes on with a shrug, looking in the rearview mirror to indicate that he's talking directly to Castiel now.
“Neither your car nor Sam is any form of pet,” Castiel deadpans.
Dean makes a choking sound that might be a mix of laughter and regret. Sam looks over his shoulder at Castiel, dimples flaring when he forces a smile that gradually becomes natural. “Pet name is just a way to say ‘term of endearment’,” Sam explains with a shrug. “It’s just a way to show affection to someone.”
“And Sammy loves it when I call him baby, don’t you babe?” Dean reaches over again and squeezes Sam’s knee and Sam finally relaxes fully in the moment. The squeeze probably means I’m here now and are you OK? The half smile Dean sends his way is exasperated and means something along the lines of since when did Castiel turn into our kid we have to educate?
“So are pet names reserved for lovers?”
Sam frowns; his brow crinkling and Dean can’t help but think about how adorable Sammy can still be (not that Dean would ever say that out loud). “Well, no. Parents and friends can have pet names. Like, both Dad and Dean call me ‘Sammy’. And Dad calls Dean ‘Deano’ sometimes.”
“And Bobby calls us ‘idjits’ and ‘morons’,” Dean throws in and Sam shoots him a glare for throwing in more complications.
“I thought that Bobby insults your intelligence when he calls you that.” Castiel sighs, obviously more confused than ever.
“Well, yeah, he kind of insults us when he calls us that, but it also means that he likes us no matter what we do,” Sam tries to explain.
“So, when he calls you two little girls, he's not just insulting your manhood or saying that he wants to be your lover?” the angel asks slowly, eyes narrowing incredulously in the rearview mirror.
Dean stiffens and grips the steering wheel harder with the hand that's still on it, gritting his teeth. “That crotchety old drunk-hey!” his rant gets broken off by Sam who jabs him in the ribs.
Sam pats the back of Dean’s hand that hasn’t moved from his knee and gives him a saccharine smile. “That’s enough ‘help’, sweetie,” he purrs warningly and ignores the way Dean’s nose wrinkles at the name before turning around in his seat to look at Castiel.
“OK, first of all, Bobby does not want to be our lover and we really, really don't want him to be, either. And when he calls us that stuff-OK, yeah, Bobby’s complicated,” Sam waves a hand, dismissing that example and moving on. “But we call you Cas, that’s kind of a pet name.”
“So you want to be my lover?” the bewildered angel asks, tilting his head in thought.
Dean half-growls, half-groans in disgust, doing a little shudder that Sam mentally calls Dean's “I got the willies dance”. “That's a hell to the no,” he mutters and Sam gives him another jab to the ribs, earning Dean's version of a bitchface.
“Not... quite, Cas,” Sam says as delicately as he can. “The fact that we gave you a... pet name means that we like you-you're a good friend.”
Castiel nods and looks contemplative but remains silent, obviously the end of the conversation for now. Sam knows that he’ll ponder it off and on and may or may not bring it up again depending on his conclusion.
They drive for eight hours and pull into Morristown, Tennessee around eight that evening. They had a late breakfast and hadn’t stopped to eat again except for some snacks from the gas station earlier so Dean is starving, cranky, and bored stiff. The last two hours were filled with Sam and Castiel going on and on about some book like they were conducting the Sam ‘n’ Cas Book Club there in the Impala.
Now, Dean usually thinks it's kind of sexy when Sam gets his geek on-when his cheeks flush in excitement, his eyes brighten and he spouts off wells of information looking wide and eager at Dean and Dean can't help but remember little Sammy on his lap with a book while Dean painstakingly taught Sam how to read.
...Not that the memory of little Sammy in his lap is what Dean thinks is sexy about the whole thing. He's not that much of a pervert. But the bright, flushed look Sam gets when he's geeking out is sexy and Dean just can't help but feel a sense of pride, too, because he had a hand in how fucking smart Sam turned out to be.
But the point is that while Sam is sexy as hell when he's being a nerd, it's not so sexy when it lasts for two hours and Dean can't pull over and lay Sam out in the backseat because a damn angel is currently occupying that space. One time Dean even catches Castiel's blue eyes and Dean could swear that the stupid little shit actually looks smug like he knows that his mere presence is giving Dean blue balls.
Distantly Dean realizes that he’s taking out his frustration on the angel like he always does because Castiel probably doesn’t even know what “blue balls” means, much less grasps the social subtlety it would take to consciously tease Dean with a geeky Sam but not let Dean do anything about it.
Naturally, by the time they pull up to Morristown, Dean isn’t only starving, cranky, and bored but he's also sexually frustrated and suspicious of the seemingly clueless angel that just might be dicking around with him out of nothing but pure spite because Dean dissed the Angel Express.
Part B
http://jcrgirl.livejournal.com/25808.html